


Music to Watch Girls By

by itwasprongs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Muggle & Modern AU, Music Festival, Oxford, Reading and Leeds Festivals, jily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itwasprongs/pseuds/itwasprongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James didn't plan on meeting a goddess at a music festival, and if he had, he probably would've sobered up and taken the chips out of his hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music to Watch Girls By

**Author's Note:**

> jily university + music festival + “I accidentally broke into your house because I was drunk” au
> 
> this took me about three days to write and it hasn't been edited but i hope you like it!
> 
> 10/01/15 - was just rereading this and realised not all of it copied over from the original document so there were a few paragraphs missing in the middle, whoops. they've now been added in so hopefully it runs a little smoother.

He’s not sure exactly when he lost the others, but James figures it was somewhere between pissing on the side of someone’s tent and falling over in fright at someone’s mickey mouse costume. Now he’s surrounded by a sea of tents and he can’t remember where theirs is. Sirius chose the spot because he claimed it was the right distance away from everything. Except every other bloody person at the festival seems to have had the same idea, and James can’t remember if his tent is the red one by the stunted sapling or the red one half knocked over. 

Figuring their tent had a lot structural stability thanks to his fantastic tent erecting - he giggles as he thinks it - skills and not remembering a tree being anywhere near their set up area, James continues through the medley of tents. 

The music from the stages is audible everywhere and James nods his head to it while he walks, squinting through the darkness as he looks for a splash of red. Litter is everywhere and at one point he trips over a tent string and lands face first in someone’s left over fish and chips. The grass is wet and muddy and he pushes himself up, wiping dirt from his bare chest. It’s fucking freezing and he’s pretty sure his wellies are at least ankle deep in mucky water. 

Occasionally he bumps into people but none of them seem able to answer his question of the whereabouts of his tent and a few seem very put out that he is neither a) their missing friend or b) with alcohol. James plows on though and after ten minutes he finds himself standing outside a red tent that looks like it could definitely, almost certainly, possibly be his. 

In his drunken haze it takes his shaking hands longer than it should too unzip the tent and he kicks off his wellies before crawling inside. The temperature is just a little bit warmer inside the tent but James is grateful nonetheless and he wastes no time in burying himself inside what must be his sleeping bag and pulling a bright orange duvet over himself too. Before long he’s fast asleep.

What feels like ten minutes later, James is being shaken awake and forced to roll over. His head hurts and he can smell stale vinegar as he pushes the sleeping bag down from his eyes and peers out. Kneeling above him is a goddess. She looks like Venus in that painting but about a hundred times hotter, more clothed and with redder hair. James wants to kiss her.

"Woah…" she whispers, "you’re definitely not Mary." She seems surprised by this information and James wonders why she would think that Mary would be in his tent anyway.

"Haven’t given birth to Jesus recently so I guess not." The goddess seems to find this really funny because she laughs for about five minutes. It should hurt his head except James likes the noise. "Am I dreaming?"

"You seem pretty awake to me." James winces as she pokes him on the nose. Goddesses aren’t meant to do that. Maybe she’s not a goddess. After all, he’s never encountered a goddess with paint on her face before. Though maybe goddesses like wearing war paint, besides she looks very pretty with the paint on her cheeks - James decides not to say anything about it.

"Why are you in my tent?" He asks, hoping she can’t smell the vinegar as strongly as he can.

"This is my tent." She frowns. "Oi, why are you in my sleeping bag?" Her next sentence is interrupted by a yawn and James likes the way the skin around her eyes crinkle.

"Actually you’re in my tent, I think you’ll find so _ha_.” He pokes his tongue out at her and then somehow forgets how to get it back into his mouth. The goddess giggles as, for a moment, he works his lips, trying to get his sodding tongue back into his mouth. Eventually his neurons start working again and his tongue obeys.

"Wrong. This is my tent." He opens his mouth to protest but she puts a finger, a very slender and pretty finger, on his lips and his words get all tangled up in his head so he keeps quiet. "But you’re pretty so you can stay. Now budge over. Mary might come back soon." And without another word she pulls her tank top over her head, yanks her shorts off and then looks at James expectantly. Except James stopped functioning the moment her shirt came off and all he can do is stare at the goddess who is now only in her bra and knickers. He’s pretty sure he’s not meant to do that but he can’t really help it. "Bleedin’ heck." She says and reaches beneath the duvet, unzipping the sleeping bag and slipping in next to him.

She does it up and it seems impossible that they both fit, yet they do and James’ eyes are wide as she fidgets until she has her back to his chest and is under the duvet completely except for the top of her head. He can feel every inch of her pressed against him and he doesn’t really know what to do. James is still trying to figure out how on earth it escalated into this. Not that’s he going to complain. Her breath evens out and he realises she’s fallen asleep. It’s still dark outside the tent but the music seems to have quietened and no one has come looking for him. So James shuts his eyes and, once again, drifts off.

When he wakes up for the second time he finds that he hadn’t been dreaming; he’s in his tent and there is a very scantily clad girl sleeping next to him. Consciousness regains it’s rightful throne after a few seconds of bleary eyed blinking and James realises that, at some point during the night, he’d put his arm around her waist. He realises simultaneously that he has a serious case of morning glory and heat rushes to his cheeks. His crotch is perfectly aligned with her arse and James is certain that there is no scenario in which he will be able to get away with it. It’s painful just how hard he is and he feels like crying because any second she will wake up and begin screaming bloody murder when she notices that he is more than happy to see her.

She shifts then and James freezes, eyes going wide. That is definitely not helping the matter, he thinks. Slowly he tries to arch his back so he’s not pressed up against her but the sleeping bag provides no wriggle space. He makes a mental note to tell Remus to buy bigger sleeping bags.

"Are you awake?"

"Holy shit balls." Her voice makes him jump and reflexively he tightens his arm around her.

"That’s your dick isn’t it?" She asks and James prays to Alex Turner that the ground will swallow him up.

"Sorry." He manages to say before she twists round to face him. Every nerve in his body is electrified and it’s worse now he’s pressed up against her front. So much worse and so much fucking better too. The goddess seems unfazed by the fact that his erection is practically against her stomach and instead is studying his face.

"You are awfully pretty." She murmurs to herself, her cheeks pink beneath the blue paint. "But that does not explain why you’re in my tent."

"This is _my_ tent." James insists, trying to think of anything but the goddess pressed up against him.

"Incorrect." She mumbles and then fidgets around again so she’s facing away from him. James shuts his eyes and imagines Susan Boyle’s naked body, lathered in sweat and oil, grinding - "Are you getting out or not?" He opens his eyes and finds that the goddess has climbed out of the sleeping bag and is crawling towards a large rucksack, packed in against the tent wall and partially hidden by carrier bags. This provides him with a perfect view of her fucking beautiful arse, only barely covered in knickers, and he has to tear his eyes away. 

"Yeah, sure.." James pulls himself out of the sleeping bag and sits up, sneaking a quick sniff of his armpits whilst she’s rummaging through the ruck sack. "Wait! Hey! That’s mine -"

She holds up a black, lacy bra and James swallows. That’s not his rucksack and he’s certain the lads would’ve shared it if they’d pulled or become a fan of wearing lacy underwear in the recent months. 

"My tent. Told ya."

"Shit." James runs a hand over his eyes and then swears again. This is not good. "You’re not going to report me are you?"

The girl turns and raises an eyebrow at him, sitting down and opening a packet of wet wipes at the same time. It strikes James that he doesn’t know her name and he wonders when would be an appropriate time to ask a goddess’ name.

"Why would I report you? All you did was get a boner and sleep in my tent, after I gave you permission to do so. Not get the boner but, anyway, things happen." The pink on her cheeks darken and James feels, again, like he wants to kiss her. "I’m not going to report you, you don’t have to worry about that." She stretches her legs out and begins furiously scrubbing at her skin with a wet wipe. Below her knees a line of caked mud shows where her wellies ended and paint and mud splatter her thighs and torso. Absentmindedly he thinks about the hand print of green paint on her inner thigh and who put it there. 

"So…" He pauses and attempts to run a hand through his hair, only to find that there’s a headband obstructing his fingers. Tugging it off he frowns, not sure when he acquired the pair of antlers. "Do you want me to leave?" Mid-scrub, the red head stops and looks up at him. She appears to be analysing him and James sits like a deer in the headlights, not sure what to do.

"Are you meant to be a superhero or something?" She glances at the red cape tangled round him and he nods. "Who?"

"Not sure really… think it was something like The Amazing Potter." Remus had chosen the names, whilst heavily intoxicated, so they left something to be desired.

"What, you have super powers in clay sculpting?" 

"Oh," he laughs softly, "no, Potter’s my surname."

"Gotcha." She goes back to scrubbing and he is left to figure out if her not answering the question means she wants him to stay. Most of the paint and mud has come off her legs now and she is wiping a new wipe up and down her arm. Covered in mud, sweat and paint she looks stunning and James has an irrational and urgent desire to know what she looks like normally. When she’s clothed and clean and just going into town. What she looks like when she’s home alone or Christmas shopping or browsing for books or walking a dog…"This your first festival?"

"Second."

"When was your first?"

"When I was sixteen." And he feels sixteen again, sat opposite a beautiful girl in what is definitely not his tent, trying to ignore the way her boobs jiggle slightly when she moves and how her knickers are wonder woman knickers and her hair falls just so over her shoulders. He really is a fucking idiot. "What about you?"

"First time," she smirks, "I’m a festival virgin."

"You enjoying it?" _'You enjoying it', you absolute prat_ , he curses himself, knowing that usually he is about 84% more suave and charming and cool and just better. 

"I can’t say I expected to sleep with a stranger on the first night but yeah, it’s fantastic."

"What, the sleeping with the stranger or the festival?" There. The first thing he’s said since he’s woken up that resembles his usual self.

"Let me get back to you on that." They fall into silence again and James is willing himself to get up and leave but he really doesn’t want to. Peter, Remus and Sirius are probably wondering where he is yet James can’t bring himself to be too bothered. It’s not like they’re completely incompetent, he’s sure they can survive a night without him. He watches as the goddess begins to scrub at the word ‘Evans’ scrawled across her chest and it only takes him a second to comprehend that that must be her surname, at the least.

"Who’s Mary?"

"Shit." Evans drops the wet wipe and dives across the tent, feet landing on James’ knees. She rifles beneath the clothes she tore off last night - a couple of hours earlier James realises - and grabs a phone from her short pockets. "Shit shit shit shit shit." He starts to ask her what’s wrong but then she’s pressing the phone to her ear and speaking frantically in to it. "Shit Mary I’m so sorry are you alright where are you?" Clearly there’s someone on the other side of the line and James inconspicuously tries to eaves drop but comes up short. All he can hear from the other end is a jumbled mess of static. "Right… he’s still asleep? What are you going to do? Uhuh, hmm, well I’ve got some stranger in our tent. I know. He’s cute but - okay. Look for the flag. I’ll see you in five. Love you. Bye."

"Wild guess here - was that Mary by any chance?" James asks, slightly relieved when Evans removes her shins from his kneecaps and sits up again. 

"Yeah, it was." Evans crawls back across the small space and from her rucksack pulls a new change of clothes. "Would you mind…" She looks awkward for the first time and it takes James a second to catch on. 

"Oh, yeah." He spins around and sits facing the red fabric, fingers fiddling with his cape. Behind him he hears her spray some deodorant and the scent fills the tent. Then there’s just the quiet shuffle of her moving about as she, presumably, changes her underwear and then pulls on the clean pair of shorts and crop top he’d seen her grab.

"You can turn around now." He does and she smiles at him as she pulls her hair back into a sloppy bun. By tonight it will probably be a nest of grease but right now it looks lovely and thick and soft. James wants to bury his hands in it. Over the crop top she’s wearing a dark navy blue hoodie and James frowns. He recognizes that hoodie.

"You go to Oxford?" He says, interrupting her as she pulls on woolen socks over her feet. Evans looks at him, down at her hoodie and then back at him, a blush once again staining her cheeks. 

"Yes. Magdalen College." She points at the crest off white flowers on a black background.

"What are you reading?"

"Philosophy, Politics and Economics. But I’m dropping Economics for my second year." He nods as she speaks, trying to find his own words.

"I’m at Christ Church and Ruskin. Fine Art and History of Art." He stumbles over the sentences but she seems to understand because she smiles brightly. 

"Not in the Bullingdon Club then." A smirk flits across her face and James laughs. 

"Didn’t want to upset Mother dearest." 

"I myself _am_ part of the Bullingdon club and find it rather enjoyable actually.”

"Pub brawls must be right up your alley."

"It’s the pictures that do it for me. There’s nothing more fun than standing on steps in a waistcoat and smoking jacket."

"They don’t wear smoking jackets."

"Bugger. I’m in the wrong club!" Her face breaks into a soft smile. "Must have read the directions wrong. They laugh for a moment and then James speaks, dropping the cockney accent he’d adopted for their game.

"When are you going back?"

"Week before term starts." She drops the posh accent as she stands, bending over so her head doesn’t hit the roof of the tent. "I’m in Manchester and London until then. How about you?" Evans stuffs her hands in to the hoodie’s pockets and waits for an answer.

"We’ve got a flat in London so I’m there until five days before. Oh, and I’m going to Europe for a bit. Visit some galleries."

"Sounds like fun. Now, you coming?" This time she doesn’t wait for an answer, just unzips the tent, steps into some walking boots and then walks out. James scrambles to follow her, almost bent completely at the waist in an attempt to stop his head knocking into the roof. 

Someone wolf whistles as he climbs out behind Evans, still half naked and muddy from yesterday. It’s brisk outside and his cape only provides some protection from the breeze so he jumps up and down on the spot, his damp wellies slapping against his calves. The redhead is standing on the spot, slowly turning 360 degrees and it’s only when she spots a brunette making her way towards her that she stops.

"Lily!" The brunette starts running, jumping over tent pegs and litter as she approaches them. James stops jumping when she sees him and immediately bursts into laughter. Evans - Lily he figures - is standing there with her arms crossed and a very rosy blush creeping up her neck. "Nicely done, nicely done."

"Oh I didn’t _shag_ him Mary. For fucks sake, get your head out of the gutter.”

"I would’ve."

"You would shag anyone with a pulse if they said yes." Lily sighs and James decides he probably shouldn’t take what sounds like it could be an insult personally.

"Very true, very true." Mary smiles and holds out her hand. Like James, she seems not to have washed yet so lines of paint trail down her arms. "Nice to meet you. I’m Mary, Lily’s fabulous sidekick."

"I’m James. Um, Lily’s tent burglar." He says, taking her hand in a quick shake.

"What did you nick? Her virginity?" Lily groans and drops her face into her hands. James isn’t sure what to do then so he just stands there and tries not to meet Mary’s eyes. Hopefully Evans wouldn’t mention his boner to her after he’d gone. After all, it had gone down after only a few thoughts of Boris Johnson’s wobbling behind moving in sync with Susan Boyle’s.

"I’d better be going. I’ve got to find my mates."

"Sure. Nice to meet you Potter." Lily gives him a half-hearted wave and he returns it, smiling slightly at Mary as he does.

"Have a nice weekend. Maybe I’ll bump into you when term starts." _Ask for her number._

"Maybe." _Her snapchat. Anything. Ask._

"Bye." He turns and begins walking away from the two girls, not sure if he’s going in the right direction or not. Behind him he can hear Mary asking Lily what the fuck happened there and he allows himself a small smile.

He doesn’t look back as he hops over strings and cigarette butts, cutting through a hedge into the next field. Almost immediately he spots Peter, standing about twenty feet in front of him, and arguing at someone inside their tent. How he’d thought Lily’s tent was his, he has no idea because his is a four man tent and in hers he’d struggled to fit his feet in length ways.

"I don’t know where he is Sirius, you’re the one who lost him."

"It’s not my fault some twat decided to punch me in the face."

"You didn’t have to punch him back."

"It’s a matter of principle Moony, yes I did." Their voices are discernible as he gets closer and James rolls his eyes. Peter is the only one outside the tent and he guesses Sirius is still in his sleeping bag, completely unbothered by his best friend’s absence. 

"Maybe we should go look for him."

"Wormtail, we’ve already checked the portaloos and the first aid stand. He’s probably shagging some bird in her tent somewhere, he’ll find his way back."

_“Sirius.”_

"What, Moony? What? He probably _is_ shagging some bird. Ow! That or he’s passed out somewhere. If he is we’ll go visit him in hospital when he has hypothermia, _after_ the festival.” 

"Thanks for the vote of concern, Padfoot." Peter jumps around as James speaks right behind him and from inside the tent there’s the sound of scuffling before Remus’ head appears in the gap where the tent’s not zipped up, looking tired but relieved. 

"Oh thank fuck." 

"We were going to call your mum." 

"Told you he’d be back!" Sirius calls from inside the tent and then he groans and James guesses Remus has given him a well aimed kick. 

"What happened?" Peter asks, taking in James’ appearance. 

"I climbed into some randomer’s tent because I thought it was ours." 

"And they let you stay the night when they came back?" Remus asks as he climbs out of the tent, dressed in clean clothes but reeking of alcohol and smoke. 

"Yup. Very friendly people. She goes to Magdalen." 

"Told you he was shagging someone!" They ignore Sirius this time. 

"Did you shag her?" 

"No Wormtail, I didn't shag her." 

"Magdalen?" Remus asks, speaking over Sirius’ dry commentary from inside the tent. 

"Yeah." James tells them what happened briefly and when he’s done Peter and Remus share a look.

"You totally fancy her."

Ten minutes later and all four of them are trudging into the main town of Reading, heading towards someone’s house. Peter had met the couple yesterday and they’d given him their address and told them they were welcome to come by and use their shower. Apparently they’d been to the same boarding school as them, and the name Longbottom did ring a bell so they’d figured it was safe.

"Did you recognise her?"

"Not really but… I must have seen her. At least once anyway." James nudges his glasses up his nose and shrugs. "Oxford isn’t that big."

"Do we know anyone at Magdalen?" Sirius asks, walking along next to James with his hands in his pockets. He’s got his hair in a sloppy bun, similar to the one Evans’ had put hers in earlier, and his undercut is just beginning to look like it needs a trim. 

"Isn’t Dorcas in Magdalen?"

"Nah, she’s at Mansfield. McKinnon’s at Magdalen." Peter corrects Remus. 

"Would she know this girl?"

"She’s reading English. Maybe."

"Does it matter?" James interrupts, desperate to see Lily Evans again but not wanting his friends to turn it into an Oxford college man hunt. Which he knows they can perform because after their reading week, Sirius carried one out in an attempt to find whomever had stolen his favourite cushion from the common room. And it was successful. 

"If you want to see her again then yes." He really does want to see her again.

"There’s no chance in hell you’ll bump into her here." He’s just not going to admit to really wanting to see her again. 

"Maybe I don’t wan to-"

"Potter! Potter!" It’s ten am and the street they’re on would generally be quiet but most of the other festival goers are taking the chance to visit town and stock up on supplies, so it takes a moment for him to register his name being called over the sound of other conversations and the road next to them. He does though and in unison, he spins around with his mates, causing quite a backlash from the people surrounding them. "Potter!"

There’s a lull in people and James spots Lily running down the pavement towards them.

"Is that-"

"Yeah."

"What to do we do?" Remus asks, looking like a fish out of water even though James has saw him pull three times last night.

"Act cool." At Sirius’ words, James half expects his friends to take on some ludicrous pose like they’re out of a 50’s American film or something but thankfully they don’t and he’s able to construct his face into a reasonably neutral expression. 

"Hi." She says, coming to a breathless stop in front of them. Behind her Mary is catching up. "You left these in my tent and I didn’t know if you waned them or not but I figured better safe then sorry, so, here." She holds out the pair of antlers he’d left behind and he accepts them, hoping that’s not the only reason she chased him across the festival grounds and towards the town. 

"Thank y-"

"Also Oxford is small but not that small and I didn’t want you to not be able to find me, um, so I wrote down my accommodation for next year and that’s my number too. Just in case you wanted to call me at some point." Her cheeks are pink and James decides that thinking she was a goddess probably isn’t that far from the truth of what she actually is. Evans hands him a piece of paper, folded messily, and he grins as he accepts it.

"Great." He really really wants to kiss her but before he can even think about doing it, Sirius is stepping forward and declaring James a right knob for not introducing them to her yet and James is stopped from stepping forwards, grabbing her waist -

Five months later and he is doing just that as she comes out of Magdalen’s entrance. His hands land firmly on her waist and he tugs her forwards, away from the door so the group of students behind her aren’t stopped from leaving. They’re her friends and they all wolf whistle as he presses his lips to hers and teases her mouth open. Her surprised smile is welcomed and he knows he shouldn’t be kissing her right here, right now because there’s a large group of tourists walking down the cobbled street and the porter’s about four feet away but he can’t help it. 

James’ mum is ill and he’s been away for the weekend, visiting, and three days away from Lily is three days too long. Her fingers knot into his hair and he’s pulled away from his mum’s bedside and back to kissing Lily.

"Hello." She murmurs when they break apart, breathless. James grins and brings his hand up to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb gently over her lips. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see the tourists grabbing for cameras and pestering their guide and looking on in both interest and thinly veiled disgust at such a public display of affection. But James can not give two flying fucks because the whole wolf whistling and the feel of her fingers in his hair has reminded him of Reading and how they _did_ bump into each other again and how brilliant it was to kiss her for that first time outside her tent, as if he was dropping her back home after a date.

Now they’re clean and in fresh clothes and there’s not a piece of litter in sight but all he can think about is how she still looks like a goddess, even five months later.

"I missed you." He says into her forehead, pressing a soft kiss there.

"Really? I never would have guessed." Their hands entwine as they step apart and he relieves her of her bag, hoisting it onto his own shoulder. Her friends have moved on, guessing that she’ll be alright to walk with him, and they begin to walk down the road, heading for the meadows.

"I got you a present."

"Yeah? What is it?" Lily’s feet scuff along the ground and he pulls the present from his pocket, pressing it into her free hand.

"A reminder of our first ever meeting." She looks excited to open it and drops his hand so she can tear the wrapping paper off the small box. Jewelry, she probably thinks it is and James watches for her reaction as she opens it to find that it is definitely not jewelry.

"Oh-" She drops the box in her surprise and the small scoop of dirt, containing a cigarette butt and beer cap, spray across the pavement. James can’t hold back his laughter anymore and by the time she takes chase, he’s already sprinting down the pavement. "Dirt does not count as a gift James Potter! I am going to get you sent down you unbelievable _ogre_. Potter, come back here!” 

He lets up just before the main road and she barrels into him, throwing punches at his torso as he laughs.

"I thought it’d be romantic."

"It’s bloody well not." She hits his shoulder. "Now go clear it up before the porter sees you fucking prat." James pecks her on the nose before darting back up the road to pick up the cigarette butt and cap and throw them into a bin and using his foot to make the mud less of a pile. Lily’s smiling reluctantly when he returns and he manages to turn the small smile into fully fledged grin after a few minutes of snogging against the wall to appease her.

"It’s from the spot where we first kissed." He explains as Lily squirts hand sanitizer onto both their hands. "I’ve got a whole bottle’s worth." Lily, his goddess Lily, looks up at him in disbelief. "I was drunk, who can blame me."

"I cannot believe I am dating you."

"Right back atcha, Evans." He winks and she nudges him with her shoulder, silently telling him that he’ll probably be knocked into next year if he doesn’t stop being a tit soon. 

It’s only later, when they’re at his shared house, and they’ve spent the evening making out on his bed and watching reruns of Fawlty Towers that she tells him what he’s been thinking from the moment he met her.

She’s lying on top of him, legs entangled, and her hair is sprayed out on his chest like a pool of autumn leaves. On the tv Basil Fawlty is feeding someone rat poison and Lily’s eyes are fluttering shut every so often. James presses a kiss to her head and continues drawing circles on her hip, loving the feel of her goosebumps beneath his thumb. 

"Potter?"

"Yes?" He answers quietly, looking down at those very green eyes.

"I’m really glad you picked my tent to climb into when you were drunk."

James smiles as her eyes close and her breath evens shortly after, thinking that he wouldn’t have had it any other way.


End file.
